Sleep
by lmaosfomgcslhs
Summary: An exploration on what happenes when Saya sleeps from her point of view. Just simply practice for me... and it is much better than this summary :


Sleep

*Silence –_noun, verb-_

_Noun-_

_An absence of any sound or noise; stillness_

Silence is both a physical and mental state. It overcomes my body and traps me there, cutting away at my ears and eyes. Taking away my body and putting it in chains. I can't even remember what sound is like; actual sound not the shallow soft whispers of my mind. As long as I'm alive, true silence can never be achieved; my mind works too much in this silent, still state.

I can feel it before it comes, before it grasps me in its long, icy embrace. I can feel it drifting towards me, the tiredness, and the weakness, the irrational longing for an unknown substance, person, or object. Even during natural activities such as walking or running or laughing; there is this unwanted haze that begins to fog over my conscious mind, and after it begins I can never see clearly until I fall into its grip, and then awake again. I hate the feeling.

When I'm awake- no- _alive_, my mind is constantly challenged with all of these beautiful things. My body craves this…_alive_ state. To actually touch people, to breathe in the air, to speak, to walk, to hear the people's voices I think so much of. It's always more beautiful than the flashing images of memories. I crave to embrace it all into a small, compacted object I can always have and feel, even when I'm suspended in the cool grip of silence. How happy I always am when I'm welcomed by the sun's warm blanket, or the moon's cool spotlight.

But then it comes. The long sleep overtakes me and I'm pushed into the darkness, back into the silence.

"Sleep, Saya. I will be here when you awake," A voice chimes to me for what seems like the hundredth time. I reach up, desperate to touch his face, to tell him to shake me, to cut me, anything to keep me awake. But I know it's too late. And the sleep hits me like a brick, and his image fades away, and so do I. The first few moments I'm dead. There is nothing but that strange flicker of awareness. Sometimes I feel someone touching me but I never know where. Sometimes I her whispering, but I can never tell what the words are, or who spoke them. I don't know how long this state lasts, being in and out of consciousness, the silence taking over me. Then I'm engulfed with warmth that somehow is also cold too. This brings a long state of confusion. I can't think in words or pictures, just colors and flashes of blurred objects.

Then I can feel it. I can feel the memories coming to me like dreams. A forever-lasting dream where everything is fake and the only happiness is the memory of it. I relive these memories and let them flow out of sequence. I let my mind whisper to me, and let it figure things out. I place pieces into the picture where an empty hole used to be, until I've plastered a readable explanation for myself. I question everything silently. Even the things I know the answers to, I simply question the answers. I get my answers, and the answers to the answers and I swim in my new knowledge. I think over my new findings, trying to keep them, but they will be found useless when I wake up, when everything I do in this state is lost, and I begin again much later. The next time I sleep.

This thirty-year-cycle of stillness kills me inside. I scream to get out, but I don't have a voice. I thrash and flail my limbs trying to break free, but I have no body. Then I see him. An image my mind creates to keep me silent and still. I try to reach out to him, but my mental fingers simply press against a photo. Its not real, but its real enough. He sits beside me; the slight light radiates off of my live shell and reflects off his porcelain face, casting long shadows over the depths of his figure. His hair blends with the blackness of the room, and his eyes are darker. He opens a case beside him and I see him perch his instrument on the ground, balancing it on nothing but a pin, and begins to move his arm. He plays, but no sound comes to my ears; and its painful. All I can do is watch the blurry image. Watch as his white bandaged hand moves with the rest of his arm. He never once looks away from my shell, never looks away from _me_.

The image fades, and I begin to wake up again. First I can think clearer. I can almost talk to myself. I give one last glance at everything I had done within the silence, and then don't hesitate to look away, to turn around and leave it there. I don't have to worry, I will find it all again. I will do it all again next time. Then I can feel and move. My fingers twitch and I'm aware of the feeling. I know I moved, and happiness moves through me. I begin to think clearly and my emotions come back. My nerves make new paths to my muscles, which are learning to work all over again. I feel the stiffness of my body, how deprived it is of movement. I experiment with moving my hands, feet, arms, knees, and elbows. I adjust my hips slightly, and then I can feel the soreness from being in the same position. A move my head, and then my throat tightens. I realize how long I have been deprived of the one thing my body needs the most and my hunger begins to rage through me. It takes over me and I forget the blissful feeling of waking up; it doesn't matter anymore.

_I need blood._

I move my arms upward to meet the cocoon I'm still trapped in. I claw at it, the pain in my throat almost too much to bear, until I remember where I'm going to get the blood. Now he fills my mind. I feel my hands shake in the need for him. The physical _need_ for him. The thick strands stick to my skin and I tear at them. I thrash my legs and I practically fall out of the shell, my exposed body struck suddenly by the sudden decrease in temperature. My eyes are glued shut, and I get up on my knees and search for him through the darkness. Then I see light drain through my eyelids and I force my eyes open, almost painfully. There is a blob in front of me, but I don't need to see him to know who he is. It feels like there is a magnate pulling me towards him, and all I want to do is feel him. I want his arms around me.

As if out of instinct, I gather the small amount of strength I have and lunge at him, my body lifting itself off the floor and into him. He catches me and I feel the warmth radiate off of him and into me. I feel his pulse as my lips brush against his neck. He pulls at his collar and I sink my teeth into his flesh, sucking at the wound. I drink from him, the feeling so good, so amazing its borderline erotic. My body craved for this moment for so long, and I almost tore myself to pieces for it. I have him now. With every drop of blood that enters me, I can feel him more and more. I can remember more and more. I _know_ this man. I know who he is, I know who I am.

I take my mouth away from his neck. I don't bother searching for his name, I already know its sweet ringing and it slips off my tongue like it was completely natural, one of the few things I cant forget with time of silence. An impulse like breathing or blinking. I clutch onto him, my body regaining its strength just by the sound of his name. I smile at how fearless it is on my breath.

"Haji…"

**Just a short fic about Saya when she sleeps. I have always wondered what it was like to sleep for thirty years...so i decided to explore it more. I got the idea while watching Ed, Edd, and Eddy...which is random... .**

**Please review me! I'm tottaly new so you dont know how happy I would be if you did :) I realy tried to get as much detail and I wanna know if I just blabbered on too much...**

**:)**


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